Murdercai and Rapey
by Super Duper Lame O
Summary: Falsely accused of a heinous crime, Mordecai and Rigby must find the true criminal before it's too late.
1. The Alley

James Robin was an attractive, trim man in his mid-twenties who, being an only child, was always supported by his parents. They taught him the most valuable lesson of his life: "Stand tall and humble, focus on the happiness and wellbeing of others and they'll do the same for you in return." It was for this reason he grew to be an extremely likeable person. He was the type of man who made friends everywhere he went because he simply took the time to greet and help others. This is why he had been with his girlfriend, Elizabeth, for five years. This is why he bought an engagement ring. This is why he agreed to wait until they were engaged to have sex for the first time.

But in just one week it was all taken away from him. And there was nothing that could prepare him for it. He wasn't tainted by the sensationalism of the media - every day it's a robbery, a shooting or a rape on the news. James was almost blind to it all. Growing up, James didn't come home to parents who were tired from work and did nothing but watch TV for the rest of the afternoon. No, he came home to parents who wanted to spend quality time with him. They rarely watched TV. So, he had a very innocent and optomistic view of the world, which was quickly shattered when his parents died in a car accident that week. Soon the friend to many, the type of man who could cheer just about anyone up with his smile, was hollowed out. An empty and lost man. He didn't know how long it would be until he'd feel comfortable finally proposing to Elizabeth; all he knew was that his parents would never get to see him standing at the alter.

And then, in that same week, the second and worst blow came. James, an innocent passer-by, walked near the wrong alley at the wrong time. He was walking down the street at night to run a quick errand. Then out of nowhere he was pulled into an alley and hit on the head with something metallic. Disoriented and nearly unconcious, the last thing he saw was a dark figure weilding a knife. The last thing he felt was his pants being torn off and his body being taken advantage of. He was being raped. "No, please," he choked up with a weak voice as the figure gripped his throat. When he saw the face of who was taking advantage of him, the only thing he could think to say was, "Please... don't do that... I'm saving my virginity for my girlfriend... I love her... don't... do... this..." Then he felt something puncture his neck, and he never saw nor felt anything ever again.

* * *

><p>That same night, Mordecai and Rigby were at a bar drinking away the envelope of cash Benson gave them earlier. The typical pay day of two young slackers. "Dude, Mordecai, I think you've had enough," said Rigby as Mordecai fell off his stool. Mordecai had always been a lightweight, but for some reason he never learned his lesson and always chugged down far too many beers. Usually Mordecai was the more responsible one of the two. Perhaps he was trying to prove something about himself, to show that he wasn't a wuss who couldn't handle beer.<p>

Mordecai stumbled back to his feet. "Rigby? Is that you? Hey Rigga... Rigger..." the blue jay giggled, then continued to slur. "Hey man, you have a really hard to promoncipate name!"

"God damn, Mordecai. Why do I even bother drinking with you? You're embarrassing me!"

Mordecai shakingly crawled back onto his stool and hiccupped. "Because, dude... Riggarig... I love you, bro. I want us to grow old together. When I die, I want to be buried nex tuh yow, be-kiss you're like a husband to me... except its not like a gay thing... if you know whatssuh mean..." Mordecai then fell back on the floor.

"Screw this, I hate being the responsible one on drinking night," Rigby said to himself. "Looks like I'll just have to get as drunk as Mordecai!" He quickly swigged down the bottle he had in his hand, then tossed it on the floor. He was about to order more beers but decided to drink some vodka so he'd get drunk faster. He hated the taste of vodka, but the sooner he got as plastered as Mordecai, the better.

Soon Mordecai and Rigby were walking through the dark streets in a drunken daze. Suddenly they heard screaming from an alley. "Hey Riggariggarig, that sounds like a... something going on!" said Mordecai.

The two drunken slackers ran toward the alley only to find a dead body in a puddle of blood. The body was eclipsed by the darkness of the night, and coupled with their impaired judgement, Mordecai and Rigby could only make out a blurry person in the dark.

"Whoa, Mordecai... is that a dead guy?"

Mordecai rubbed his eyes and squinted to get a better look. With a hiccup he said, "Nah, juss a sleeping hobobobo!" He then reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "We should gives him somes money!" He reached into the sleeve of his wallet and slipped out his driver's license. He said, "I give him my crebit card!" and then tossed his license on top of the dead body.

Using a sticky note and pen he found in his pocket, Rigby scrawled down a note that read: "REST WELL BUDDY. HOPE YOU ENJOYED THAT. LOVE RIGBY"

As Rigby folded the paper and threw it on top of the body, he said, "I'm outs of the money, so I pays back later!"

"Feels good to help hobobobos. Now let's go home," said Mordecai.

Back at the park, the house's front door swung open and produced a blue jay and a raccoon, who tumbled down with a thunk. Lying on the floor with the door wide open, Mordecai and Rigby quickly slipped off into unconsciousness, and the night was forgotten.


	2. Murdercai and Rapey

"Mordecai, wake up!"

Mordecai's eyes slowly pulled open. It felt like the house was spinning and a dull ache squeezed his skull. He slowly got up on his knees and winced. "Oh holy crap, my head!"

"I know, I feel hungover too, but get up! Benson's coming!" Rigby said as he pointed at the front door, which had been left open all night. He stood up and dusted himself off to face his boss. "Oh, hey Ben-"

"Rigby, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!" The gumball machine ran up the porch steps, holding his clipboard in one hand, bearing a sharp glare at Rigby.

"Oh shi-" Mordecai said until he was interrupted by a sudden flow of vomit from his now aching gut. His throat burned at the taste of his own stomach acids. His face was so close to the ground that as his vomit hit the floor, plenty of it splattered back onto his face.

Benson held his clipboard up like a shield to protect his face, as if Mordecai's vomit was strong enough to splatter all the way up to him. "Ugh, goodness gracious... needless to say you're cleaning that up ASAP. Christ, you guys got drunk again, didn't you?"

Rigby sighed and hung his head in shame. "Yes, we drank too much last night. Sorry Benson."

Benson's face turned red as he raised his voice. "No, I don't want to hear it! Look, I couldn't care less what you screw-ups do after work. And I really don't give a damn about your pathetic apologies. But if you show up with a hangover during work hours one more time, you're fired! Now put yourselves together. Your shift started an hour ago!" With that, the gumball machine turned away and ran down the porch.

"Benson's such a jerk..." Mordecai said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I feel like crap, man... I can't work right now."

"I know, but you heard Benson."

Pops came down the stairs and saw the puddle of vomit on the floor. "Ew, gross! Mordecai, Rigby, are you all right?"

As Mordecai pulled himself up, he clenched his stomach. It continued to rumble and squirm around while a feeling of emptiness seemed to drop into his gut. Some breakfast would have been great at that moment, but if he so much as took one bite of anything he'd just barf it back up. "Too many drinks last night, we'll be fine," Mordecai said, not looking at Pops to hide any signs of pain that could be on his face.

"You poor things," Pops said. "Why don't you two get some rest before doing any work today."

Rigby jolted up and ran for the couch, ready to pounce on it and spend some quality time doing nothing productive. "Yeah! Some video games should take this hangover off our minds, right Mordecai?"

"Dude, come on, you heard Benson! He's already pissed off at us. If we don't work we're fired."

Rigby slunk down further in the couch and groaned. "Benson's won't fire us, he's just sayin' that! He's all bite and no bark."

"You mean 'all bark and no bite'," said Mordecai.

Rigby flipped his body over, put his hands on the arm of the couch, and said, "Whatever, same diff! Now get over here so we can start playin'."

"Yes, you two take it easy," Pops said. "If Benson finds out I'll vouch for you."

"If Benson finds out what?" Skips said as he walked (well, in his case, as always, _skipped_) into the living room from the kitchen.

Pops replied, "Mordecai and Rigby had too many adult fizzies at the pub last night and now they're feeling too sick to work."

"Actually, Benson already knows," Mordecai corrected. "But he told us to get back to word immediately and we don't want him to find us slacking off."

"Hangover or no hangover, you guys _always_ try to get away with slacking off, regardless," Skips said in monotone.

Rigby ignored Skips' comment and picked up the remote. When the TV clicked on, a news report was airing.

The news anchors were a gray-haired man in a blue suit and and a brown-haired woman seemingly in her fifties (although the way she kept her hair down and wore her makeup showed that she was obviously trying to pass as forty, or younger). A picture of Mordecai and Rigby was being displayed above them.

"Ooh, look! Mordecai and Rigby are on the telly!" Pops squealed with delight. His smile quickly dropped when the news anchor spoke.

"Their names are Mordecai and Rigby, a blue jay and a raccoon," said the female anchor. "They are currently suspected of the rape and murder of executive chef, James Robin. Police are currently searching for the suspects to bring them in for questioning."

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" Benson yelled, suddenly standing in the doorway, clipboard still in hand.

Mordecai screamed as he reached for the remote but was interrupted as Benson ran into the room.

"Oh no you don't, don't you dare turn off that TV. I want to see what the hell this is!" Benson screamed. Pops smacked his hands onto his watering eyes as he ran up the stairs whimpering. "Great, now you made Pops cry!" said Benson.

"Wait, Buh-Buh-Benson, w-we don't..." Rigby stuttered before his boss told him to shut up.

"It appears that James was randomly attacked and then raped by the suspects sometime after ten o'clock last night," the female anchor continued. "His body was found in an alley on 7th Street where the driver's license of Mordecai, as well as a note for the victim, written by Rigby, were found. We are currently unsure why these two suspects would leave such strange evidence."

The male anchor cut in and said, "But we _are_ sure that the rape and murder of anyone, regardless of gender, is truly horrifying. These sick bastards should be called _Murdercai_ and _Rapey_, but of course, considering the evidence they left us, nicknames like that may very well be the kind of sick publicity they want."

The female anchor seemed to ignore him and said, "The suspects are believed to work at a local park, where a search is being planned to take place. If you know any information about these suspects or the victim, please call the number on the screen." A split screen was then displayed, one side showing an image of Mordecai with his name, gender, age, and height with Rigby's information on the other side. A phone number was displayed below.

With out any hesitation, Benson quickly paced toward his office. In as calm a voice as he could manage, all he said was, "I'm calling the cops."

Mordecai and Rigby turned around, still on the couch, spewing nearly unintelligible gibberish, most of which sounded like "we didn't do it" and "we don't know what they're talking about". Benson ignored it all. He could feel his heart pounding, pressure building up in his head, ready to explode. But he had to contain himself, he had to use his energy to handle the phone call he was about to give. At times like these emotions had to be disregarded, he couldn't let himself lose it, not now.

"Skips, p-please! Stuh-Stop him! I swear we're innocent!" Rigby said, trying not to flip his lid as well.

Skips, equally bewildered, could only jump toward Benson and put his hand on his shoulder. "Benson, wait..."

Benson smacked Skips' hand away, finally unable to contain himself any longer. "NO! _NO NO NO NO NO_! I DON'T WANT TO... THOSE LOSERS ARE... I'M CALLING THE... GUAAAAAH!" Finally Benson gave up on trying to say anything and sprinted into his office, slammed the door behind him, and then locked it. Once in his office he leaned over his desk, slammed his fist down, then paced back and forth. He knew he had to calm down so he could call the police and the number displayed on the news... whatever that number was. Could those slackers really have done such a thing? He wasn't even sure if he cared, he just wanted to _manage_ the situation or _something_... that was his job title. But manage what? How was he even supposed to act?

Meanwhile, in the living room, Skips, Mordecai and Rigby collectively tried to untangle their emotions and thoughts. "Skips, I swear on my grave that I would never commit such a crime!" Mordecai said.

Finally the room fell silent. Rigby was still jittery as hell, and Mordecai felt like he was going to vomit again, but otherwise the living room seemed to finally have calmed down.

Skips sighed and said, "Look, do you two remember what you did last night?"

"No... I had some beers with Rigby at the bar and then, well, I don't remember anything after that," Mordecai said. "And I have no memory of every putting my driver's license in some dark alley or whatever, let alone hurting anybody."

"Well, that takes a _tiny_ bit of the sting off," Skips said. "But you the two of you were obviously plastered as heck last night. You could have done _anything_ without even knowing it."

"Are you saying we killed that man?" Mordecai said in a booming, vehement voice.

Skips, suddenly afraid of Mordecai's tone, took a step back and said, "No, no. I just meant that, well, you know..."

"SCREW IT DUDE! EVEN SKIPS THINKS WE DID IT! WE'RE TOTALLY SCREWED! I NEED TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! I just... I can't go to jail for something I didn't do!" Rigby screamed as he burst out of the house.

"Wait, Rigby!" Mordecai chased after his friend, and it what seemed like a split second Skips was left alone in the living room, still confused.

Mordecai ran outside to see Rigby behind the wheel of the golf cart. "Rigby, what are you doing?"

"Hop in Mordecai, I don't know what is going on or what we're supposed to do but Benson's calling the cops on us, Skips doesn't trust us, we made Pops cry and, and, and, and... WE JUST CAN'T BE HERE RIGHT NOW! We need to go... just anywhere!"

Mordecai jumped into the cart and immediately drove off with Rigby. He didn't know if this was the right thing to do, but he couldn't even think. Everything was just a spinning blur that he just wanted to end. He didn't know if driving off to god-knows-where would do him any good, but it probably didn't matter - nothing would do him good as of yet.

Skips looked out the window, watching the cart take off, and placed his hand on the glass. "Don't worry, Mordecai and Rigby," Skips softly said to the view out the window, well aware that, really, he was just talking to himself. "I know you guys didn't do it. I'll try and help." He stood there, hand placed on the window, looking at nothing in particular, for what seemed like an eternity, then shook his head. He turned around and picked up his walkie talkie.

Meanwhile, Rigby was still speeding around the park, going as fast as it would go and going nowhere, essentially. "Rigby, where are you taking me?" Mordecai asked in a panicked tone.

"I don't know Mordecai. I just can't be here. We need to go somewhere quiet, someplace where nobody can see us so we can... so we can, _think_ you know?" Rigby replied.

"Dude, Rigby. Think about it, they can't just straight up throw us in prison for several years. We'd have to go to court. They won't be able to prove us guilty, man. They won't be able to prove nothin'!"

"And how? We can't afford a lawyer."

Suddenly the golf cart's radio turned on, with Skips' voice saying, "Rigby, Mordecai, are you there? I don't think you did it. I want to help you."

"Should we pick up?" Rigby asked Mordecai, still not stopping the cart.

"He said he wants to help us. And Skips has always been there for us," Mordecai replied. He picked up the walkie-talkie transmitter and said, "Hey Skips, um... what's up?"

"Go to High-Five Ghost's place. His brother can help you," Skips' voice said.

"What? How?" said Mordecai.

"His brother Low-Five Ghost can turn you into ghosts, remember? This means you can turn invisible. You can stay perfectly hidden, allowing more time for an investigation to find the real criminal. Now go find High-Five Ghost fast. I think Benson just finished calling the cops."

"Thanks Skips, we owe you," Mordecai said as he turned off the radio and faced Rigby. "Did you hear what Skips said?"

"Yeah," Rigby replied. "Which still sucks. If we have to talk to High-Five Ghost, we'll have to deal with Muscle Man."

"Don't worry, Muscle Man would never watch the news, so at least he won't give us crap about that stupid news report," said Mordecai. "I'm not sure about High-Five Ghost, considering that we don't really know much about him, but I'm sure he'll understand if we ask for his help."

"You better be damn right about this..." Rigby said as he turned the cart around.


	3. Flies on the Wall

"What did you guys even do?" asked Muscle Man as he pulled a large, full garbage bag toward a trash can on the grass.

"What we were accused of doesn't matter, okay?" said Mordecai while Muscle Man sent the garbage crashing to the bottom of the trash bin, letting the sound of broken glass and objects thunking fill the otherwise quiet air. "And we only need High Five Ghost's help, so you can just butt out."

"How could _I _of all people help _you_?" High Five Ghost asked, floating next to Muscle Man's head.

"Do you remember that costume party prank you and Muscle Man pulled on us?"

"Oh yeah!" said Muscle Man, holding his gut and cackling. "That was hilarious! I'm so proud of myself."

"Shut up, Muscle Man," Rigby said in deadpan.

"Your brother can turn us into ghosts, right?" Mordecai asked.

"No, wait, that's not a good -" the ghost began until Rigby cut in.

"Don't screw with us, High Fives! We know that everything was part of the prank. I'm pretty sure we won't stay ghosts forever or whatever."

Muscle Man crossed his arms. "Why should my friend help you in the first place?"

Suddenly Mordecai and Rigby fell silent. They just stood there, while nothing - not even a bird chirping - could be heard.

"Uh..." Mordecai tried to muster up. "Because, um, we're... co-workers. And we should, um, uh, you know, help each other out and... stuff..."

"Wait, remember when I was jinxed and I said your name three times?" Rigby said. Everybody just gave him a blank look. Rigby groaned and continued, "I did you a favor, High Fives! And you didn't return it by un-jinxing me back. Which means you still owe me a favor!"

"That's retarded," said Muscle Man.

Mordecai looked at the green man and the floating ghost and felt a sinking feeling in his chest. For a few seconds he trailed off to his own thoughts. _I can't believe it... after all this time we've been co-workers, I have, like, no good memories with Muscle Man. And I really don't know a single thing about High Fives..._

Rigby sighed and took a few steps forward. "Come on, man! High Five Ghost, I know we don't really know each other, but me and Mordecai are in big trouble. Maybe we're not really friends with you or Muscle Man, but we've been through a lot together. That has to count for _something_."

"Yeah, Rigby's right," Mordecai chimed in. "Fives, you always seemed like a decent guy to me. And maybe Muscle Man could be enough of a jerk to let us down, I think its beneath you to not give us a hand. What do you say? It's not like you have anything to lose."

"How do we know you're not lying?" asked Muscle Man. "I don't even know what you did. Maybe you don't want to tell me because you're _not_ innocent. What if you're just using my friend to save your asses?"

"Enough, Muscle Man," said High Five Ghost. "I'll take you to my brother's place."

"Wait, we can't go out on the streets!" Mordecai said.

Rigby scratched his head with one index finger as he said, "Hmmmmm..." Then he snapped his fingers. "I got it! We could hide in a garbage bag."

Mordecai grimaced as he turned away. "Ew, that's sick!"

"An _empty_ garbage bag, dumbass." Rigby corrected.

* * *

><p>Muscle Man drove up to an apartment complex in the golf cart and parked in front of Room 23. High Five ghost flew out of the passenger's seat and opened a garbage bag in the back. "We're here," he said as a blue jay and raccoon emerged from the plastic.<p>

Meanwhile, Muscle Man knocked on the door. A stubbly ghost wearing sunglasses answered. He didn't seem to want to be bothered, but he put on a slightly happy face and said, "Oh, hey Muscle Man. What's up?"

High Five Ghost flew up to his brother and said, "I need you to help some friends of mine." With that, Mordecai and Rigby came to the door and explained.

Low Five Ghost rubbed his chin. "Uh, I dunno... I usually don't turn people into ghosts anymore. Causes problems."

Rigby got on his knees and exuded his high-pitched, whiny voice. "Pleeeeease Low Five Ghost! I'm begging you! You gotta help us man, you've been to jail before, you know what it's like. You gotta help us!"

"Ugh, fine," Low Fives replied. "But only if you stop whining like a little bi-"

Suddenly, an attractive woman with messy, black hair, dressed in nothing but a large, white t-shirt came up behind Low Five Ghost and put her left arm around him. As she seductively ran a finger down his body, she said, "How much longer you gonna keep me waiting, babe?"

Everyone paused. Low Fives turned to the woman's ear and whispered, "Uh... why don't you just stay in the apartment..." Then he floated out onto the porch and closed the door behind him, leaving the woman behind. "Um... you should... you should probably just ignore that," he awkwardly said.

Everyone continued to stay on the porch, completely still and silent for a few more seconds until Mordecai shook his head. "Look, are you going to turn us into ghosts or not?"

"Fine, but you need to know a few things about beginner ghosts first," Low Fives said. Mordecai and Rigby just nodded. "Okay, first of all, when a ghost turns another person into a ghost without killing him, it can only last 72 hours. After three days it will just wear off. Second, to turn invisible snap your fingers once. To go un-invisible, snap twice. Ghosts can see and hear other invisible ghosts, but non-ghosts can't. Now, what's really important is that-"

"Yeah, yeah, just turn us into ghosts all damn ready," Rigby cut in.

"Dude, Rigby," Low Fives replied. "I'm not done. This is really imp-"

"I don't care!_ I don't care! _I'm getting bored!" Rigby said as he jumped up and down.

"Fine, just shut up!" Low Fives smacked Rigby in the face and suddenly he and Mordecai were ghosts.

"Wow, I thought we had to give you a low-five for this to work," Mordecai said while Rigby rubbed his stinging cheek. He snapped his fingers and Rigby followed.

"Hey Muscle Man, can you see me?" Rigby asked. Muscle Man just stood there, completely oblivious to Rigby's existance.

"Where'd those guys go?" Muscle Man asked himself.

"Yes! It works! Thanks Low Fives," Mordecai said.

"Whatever, just leave me alone already." Low Fives turned around, about to re-enter his apartment until a loud BANG echoed through the air.

Muscle Man screamed as he dropped to the floor, pressing his hands against his now bleeding breast.

Mordecai and Rigby snapped their fingers twice, becoming visible again. Except Mordecai suddenly had a holster with a pistol around his waist, while Rigby had a knife sticking out of a pocket in his fur.

"MUSCLE MAN!" High Five Ghost turned around, only to see Mordecai's gun. "Oh my god... you... you shot Muscle Man!"

"What? Holy crap, no! I don't even know how this gun got here!" Mordecai unbuckled the belt with the holster and threw it on the ground, then held his hands up. "I swear, I don't know where that gun came from!"

"LIAR! How could a gun just suddenly appear on your body?" High Fives screamed.

"My god, we need to get him to a hospital, quick!" Low Fives said as he headed for the golf cart. Except all four tires were flat, with large gashes in them.

High Fives turned to Rigby, who still had a knife sticking out of his pocket. "Rigby has a knife! Oh my god! He slashed the tires when we weren't looking to prevent us from taking Muscle Man to the hospital! _YOU SICK BASTARDS!_"

"What? I didn't have a knife in my pocket!" Rigby threw the knife on the ground. "Crap, it's happening again! I need to get out of here!" Rigby flew away and disappeared in the bushes. A speechless Mordecai could do nothing but follow.

* * *

><p>Back at the house, Mordecai and Rigby were sitting on the porch - well, <em>floating<em> over the porch, anyway. Frantic, Mordecai asked, "What the hell just happened, man? How could a gun just suddenly appear on me while you had a knife and Muscle Man got shot and then High Fives pissed at us while... And and and, why are we back here?"

Rigby put his hand on Mordecai's shoulder. "Calm down! Look, I don't know where else we can go! Back here is the only place I could think of. But at least we're invisible again."

"What do we do now?"

Suddenly Benson could be heard grunting and roaring from in the house. "Dude, let's go see what's going on in there."

"You want to spy on Benson?"

"Hey, at least we can look for Skips and see if he's doing anything else to help us. What else are we gonna do anyway?"

The two floated inside the house, going right through wall. Benson was in the living room, pacing back and forth while Skips stood in front of him, seemingly trying to calm him down. Of course, Benson and Skips were completely unaware of Mordecai and Rigby's presence.

"I can't believe those dirty, rotten criminals took off with the cart after they _RAPED AND MURDERED_ my _friend!_" Benson screamed as he stormed across the living room.

"Benson has friends?" Rigby asked Mordecai.

"Wait, Benson, you knew that James guy?" Skips asked.

Benson sighed as he let himself slither onto the couch lifelessly. He looked up at Skips with eyes that were about to cry, then put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his palm. "Yeah... He was actually one of the best friends I've ever had. Even though we kind of lost contact." Benson's vision blurred as a tear rolled down his cheek. He touched it with the back of his hand and smeared it across his face until it was gone. He looked at the ground and tilted his head away and said, "Nevermind... I, I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on Benson, it looks like you need to get this off your chest," said Skips.

Benson gave Skips a look that said "I agree", then hesitated. "I told you about my involvement with that Stick Hockey crap, right?"

Skips nodded.

"Well, after my apprentice got killed and I quit the game I was in a pretty tough spot..."

Benson blinked and a younger part of him came back automatically. His addictions, his mistakes, the lonely pit he sunk into... it was all back after roughly ten years of repression. In his old, underfurnished apartment, a tiny crack of daylight shone through the dusty drapes in the dark. Empty beer cans and trash were littered everywhere. With a braided ponytail coming out of his head, Benson was on the floor, sitting against a filthy, torn-up couch with smoke in the air. His face was buried in his knees while he sobbed. On the floor next to him were a shattered lamp and an open bottle of whiskey. On the ground in front of him were a few bags of weed, a lighter, some rolled up pieces of paper, a bag of heroine, and a needle.

Benson lifted his head from his knees and stared at the drugs in front of him. _Come on man, you paid for this shit! Just do it! Get high and let it all burn away! _

_Wait, don't do it, Benson! You're already fucking up your liver with all this alcohol. Throw those fucking drugs away before you fuck your life up even more!_

_Just do it, damn it! You're life's already gone to hell, how could you screw it up anymore?_

Benson shook his head. To himself he whispered, "I can't believe it... I'm a... a loser. Stick Hockey really _was_ my life... and this is all I have left..."

_But you can change, Benson! You're here now because you were addicted to Stick Hockey. If you get addicted to these drugs you'll _never_ move forward in life!_

He had been doing this for what seemed like days - and maybe it literally was days. Cry like the pussy he was, ponder whether or not he should start doing the still unused drugs he had bought, then take another swig of alcohol and let it all repeat.

THUMP! THUMP! Went the door. "Hey, I know you're in there you wanker!" A deep, angry voice yelled from outside the door. THUMP! THUMP! More banging on the door. "Get out here so I can whoop your ass, then throw you on the street! I know you don't have the rent money, so get the fuck out or I'm breaking the damn door!"

A few days later Benson walked the streets. The sun was coming down and the city seemed empty. He was wearing a backpack and holding an open box full of his crap in his hands when he realized something: Although he was now homeless, nothing was different. He still had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. At least selling the drugs he never used gave him some food money.

Benson bumped into something soft, quickly finding a slim teenager in front of him. The boy had a set of keys in his right hand, holding the door to a restaurant in his other hand.

"Whoops, sorry man," the teenager said as he shut the door and locked it.

Next to the door, on the window, was a "Help Wanted" sign. For the first time in a long time, Benson smiled. "Nah, that was my bad. Say, is this place still hiring?"

The boy put the keys in his pockets and replied, "No, sorry. I guess my boss forgot to take the sign down."

As a sigh escaped his lips, Benson dropped his head to the ground and let a sigh escape his lips. "Well that's too bad."

The gumball machine began to trail off, looking as if he was going to break down and cry until the teen took a step forward and said, "Hey man, you must have lost your job, am I right?"

Benson didn't look back at the kid. He continued walking forward, slowly in his depressive manner. "Actually, I got kicked out of my apartment. I never really had a job, except for the money I got for doing this underground Stick Hock - ugh, nevermind, why do you care?"

The boy took another step forward and said, more optimistically, "Weeeellll, I think I know someone who can get you a job."

Benson stopped and turned around with another smile on his face. "Wow, really? Are... are you sure?"

"Totally."

"Wow, that's mighty nice of you. Name's Benson." He shifted his box full of stuff onto his left arm so he could hold out his right hand, offering a handshake.

The boy took Benson's hand and shook it. "James. James Robin. Come, take a walk with me."

As James and Benson walked around, going absolutely nowhere in particular, James explained that his father is friends with the owner of a park at that they needed a new manager.

"I could put in a good word for you, if you want," James concluded. Both he and Benson finally stopped walking. They were at the gates of a park, now closed. "This is it, by the way."

"Wow, thanks James. I... I don't know what to... why are you helping me, a total stranger, anyway?" Benson asked.

"Eh, I just like helping people. You looked like you needed a hand, and I've got two of 'em." James chuckled and Benson followed, half out of pity for the lame pun and half out of appreciation for James' sense of humor.

"Wow, I've never met someone so kind. Your parents must be proud of you."

"Heh, thanks. Anyway, I should be heading home. If you ever need anything you saw where I work. Don't be afraid to ask."

Suddenly Benson was back at the present, back on the couch, in the bright, clean house at the park. No drugs, beer or trash on the floor. No braided ponytail on his head. No landlord banging on his door. No James. Benson's head was still rested on his hands, elbows on his knees, with Skips standing in front of him. Mordecai and Rigby were still in the room as well - not that Benson or Skips knew.

"Wow, I'm sorry you lost such a good friend, Benson," Skips said.

Mordecai slowly brought his gaze to the floor and said in a weak voice that Rigby could hardly hear, "I'm sorry, too Benson." After a short pause he shot back up at Rigby. "Dude, we have to find that killer."

"What? Why us?"

Mordecai threw his hands on Rigby's shoulders. "Think about it! Now Muscle Man's hurt and we had to take the blame. That's two crimes we've been falsely accused of in one day! And I don't think it's just a coincidence that our boss knew James, the victim of the first crime that started it all. Don't you see? Someone is plotting something against us. And we're gonna that fucker down!"

Rigby blinked, then stared at Mordecai for a brief moment. Finally, he grinned. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's go fuck shit up."


	4. Voices

**A/N: I'm SO sorry for abandoning this story! I had a severe case of writer's block and eventually I lost interest in writing. I know it's been about six months since I last updated, but I actually want to finish what I started. I also know what I want to do with the rest of this story, so chapter five should be here soon! Thank you so much for putting up with the long wait!**

**UPDATE: Nevermind, I'm not going to finish this story because nobody is reading it.  
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Has it been forever yet? Mordecai didn't know. It seemed as if winter consumed the fall in a heartbeat, and yet at the same time, the world was slowly spinning forward in a slow-motion blur. It wasn't winter yet, it couldn't have been. Perhaps he was just cold. High Five Ghost turned him and Rigby into ghosts temporarily and perhaps the lack of body heat was causing him to slowly become consumed by coldness. He knew it hadn't been long enough for a change of seasons anyway. It was just hard to keep track of time when the world seemed to be nothing but a dark haze of hopelessness.

He and Rigby had seen it all for the past two days. The alley where James was violated and killed. The police station where a certain blue jay and raccoon were reported as missing, thus hindering any possible investigations or court hearings. Why did they even turn into ghosts? Why couldn't they have just waited to go to court? They didn't know much about the justice system, but surely the state would have provided them with a lawyer, right?

It didn't matter. They had eighteen hours left. Fifty-four hours wasted. Fifty-four hours wandering the empty streets, watching the case of James Robin turn into a standstill. What had the investigators done? Performed an autopsy? Sure. Search for any DNA evidence? Yep, a few strands of blue jay and raccoon hair in the alley. There was, of course, evidence that James was raped, but no other comprehensible DNA could be found as of yet. Whoever actually did the crime had covered it up really well. Meanwhile, Muscle Man was in the hospital, still alive. High Five Ghost had stayed with him for the past two days, too busy making sure his friend was okay to chase after Mordecai and Rigby.

"I swear, somebody is setting us up," Mordecai said, sitting (well, floating) on top of a building next to Rigby, looking out at the sunset cast upon the city. He was fiddling with his hands, trying not to look at his friend. "What I don't understand is, why have we been left alone this whole time? First we were accused of killing that James guy. Then suddenly we were framed of shooting Muscle Man... and then we've been left alone for two days."

"Don't feel too comfortable," Rigby said. "I just _know_ that something's going to happen when we least expect it. Whoever framed us has GOT to come back for more, I bet he's just waiting for the right moment to strike like that psycho killer in _Teen Party Massacre Two. _Geeze, I can't believe it took so long for someone to finally die in that movie. Anway, come on, man. We can't just stay here. We need to do something! How much longer do we have left?"

"I think eighteen hours. I've been counting, in my head. It's just a rough estimate, but yeah..."

"OW!" Rigby said as a rock richoted off his head. He saw a dark figure disappear into an alley. "What the... how did that happen? Nobody can see or hear us."

"Nobody but another ghost!" said Mordecai. "Hey, get back here!" Mordecai flew off the building and dashed into the alley. But it was dark. He was floating in a black abyss. Except he could hear something in the distance. Laughter. Somebody was laughing at him.

"Over here Mordecai," the distant voice said. It was a female's voice.

"Mordecai, where are you?" Rigby said from the rooftop.

"Just stay where you are, Rigby! Now who are you?" Mordecai said.

"I'm the spider," the voice said, still in the distance.

"What?"

"And I see that your friend High Five Ghost lied to you about ghosts," said the voice.

Mordecai floated around, holding his arms out, trying to feel something, trying to just escape the blankness he was floating in now. "Listen you, I don't have time for your bullshit. What's going on?"

"Mordecai, I'm your friend, honest. If you trust me, you'll float on over to the left," it said.

"Trust you? I was just framed for a horrible crime twice! And now I'm a ghost in a dark alley and -"

"You know, this is the same alley James Robin died in. And I'm surprised that you haven't sought out any true evidence from this area. If you want retribution, you'll follow my voice to the left."

"Why don't you show me your face! I don't know who the hell you are, so I'm not about to listen to some creep in a dark alley where someone was murdered!" Mordecai was growing indignant.

"Oh, you wouldn't like my face. I am a being of questionable honesty on the surface due to fear of my kind. But I assure you that I am here to help. You have what? Eighteen hours of being a ghost left?"

"How did you know that?" Mordecai began floating himself backward, trying to get further away from the depths of the alley.

"I saw what they all did to you." The voice was coming closer. "How dare they accuse you of something like that. Don't you remember how instantly Benson ran to call the police when he found the report on the news? Benson has always expected the worst of you, hasn't he? Poor, poor Mordecai."

"This is getting creepy... go away you stupid bitch!" Mordecai turned around. He could see the lighted opening of the alley in the distance, so he raced toward it. Then, in a flash, the opening was closed off.

The voice was now in front of him. "You shouldn't interrupt, Mordecai! That's very rude. If you don't want my help then you can go on wasting your own time. Do you understand?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"The only thing wrong with me is my patience, and you're wearing it very thin!"

"And _you're_ creeping me the hell out, so leave me alone!" Mordecai lunged forward but he only fell to the ground. At least it didn't hurt, since he was a ghost in an invisible state. He floated back up and turned around, this way and that, trying to find his way in the darkness. But no matter how far he floated around, no matter which way he went it was the same: Nothing. There were no walls surrounding him. There was nothing above him. It was as if he were in an empty vacuum instead of an alley.

"Tired yet?" the voice whispered in Mordecai's ear.

"AAHHH! Fuck you, bitch!" Mordecai turned and punched his fist in the voice's direction, but his fist came into contact with nothing.

"You really shouldn't be calling me names, Mordecai. I'm trying to help you!" The voice's tone was getting deeper, more serious and angrier. It was also coming from all directions. The voice was spinning in circles this way and that, all around Mordecai, it was everywhere.

"Yeah, right. How are you supposed to help me?" said Mordecai.

"I know who did it. I know who killed James Robin."

Mordecai paused. He stayed there, floating in nothing to let it all sink in. Then, in a dry voice, he said, "Why... why didn't you just tell me this from the start?"

"Because you weren't supposed to know yet, you fool! You ruined my plan. But seeing as how you wouldn't listen to me I had to do whatever I could to get your attention. So there, now you know! And because of you, I have to come up with a new plan."

"Fine, whatever. Now _tell me_ who did it! Who's been setting me up?"

"I can't tell you that, yet. If you knew who did it, it would ruin everything. But I'll tell you this," the voice said. There was a pause, and then the voice was a mere whisper in Mordecai's ear. "It's somebody _that you know_."

Mordecai's stomach clenched itself tight, then sank down as his entire ghostly body ran cold. Why would somebody he knew want to ruin his life? He didn't have much money, or anything that anyone would want to take from him. He couldn't remember wronging anyone he actually knew to the point where they would want to ruin his entire life. He couldn't believe it, it just wasn't possible. "You're lying."

"Fine, I guess I won't help you."

"Wait, hold on!"

No response.

Mordecai flew around in the endless darkness. "Please, come back! I just need more answers. This is a lot to take in. I remember you said that High Five Ghost lied to me about ghosts or something. Why did you say that? And how could somebody I actually know put so much effort into framing me? Please, I just need to know that I can trust you." Mordecai floated as high as he could but to no avail. He floated right, then left, he had no idea how long he had been traveling in the darkness but eventually he gave up.

He buried his face in his hands and curled into a ball. Mordecai never thought he could ever feel so lost and hopeless. "Hello? Anyone?" Mordecai called out in a weak voice. The only response he received was the sound of his own echo. He knew that there was no sense in trying to escape the blackness. He felt as if he would be trapped forever.

But then something brushed his shoulder. Mordecai jerked up and turned around, even though he still couldn't see a damn thing. "Hello? Lady, is that you? Whoever you are?"

"See what happens when you treat me like that?" the voice said in a loud and booming tone. "I am the one and only! The only living being in the entire world that can save your life and you think you can just say that I'm lying to you? I can leave you here in the dark for the rest of eternity if I wanted to! You have no idea of the power I have over you, and how generous I am in wanting to use that power to actually help you!"

Mordecai was speechless. He didn't know how we was supposed to respond so he only mustered up a simple "I'm sorry."

"If you're truly sorry, then you'll show me that you trust me!"

"Okay, I trust you."

"_Show_ me!"

Mordecai gulped hard and said, "Okay... okay. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Turn to your left, then float forward."

Mordecai did as he was told but he was still just traveling through emptiness. But he kept floating forward, wondering what could possibly await him in the dark. Suddenly he floated into something - something sticky. It felt like he had slammed into several hanging ropes that were tied together and coated in some sort of sticky fluid. He could no longer move, he tried to struggle but he was utterly paralyzed. Then Mordecai remembered what the voice had said to him. _I'm the spide_r. He was caught in a spider's web.


End file.
